Henry: To Prove Himself Worthy (Other Pens, Mansfield Park Book 1)

by Leenie Brown

  “Henry,” Mary began, only to be cut off by her brother.

  “Mr. Crawford,” Henry corrected with a slight growl. “You may refer to me as Mr. Crawford.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “But you are my brother,” she protested.

  “And you are my sister,” he ground out, “yet, you would scheme to see me disgraced. Where is your heart? At this moment, I would very much doubt you possess such an organ if I had not seen it over the years as we grew up.” He shook his head. “When you find your heart, then you may call me Henry again. I cannot erase the connection we have through parents, though presently I would very much wish to do so.”

  “Mr. Crawford,” cooed Lady St. James. “It is but a bit of gossip. Surely one does not sever ties over a tawdry story. Another will appear, and this will be forgotten.”

  He shook his head. “No. It is not just a piece of lint to be flicked away, as this has perhaps ruined my final chance at happiness. You see, I had decided to make an offer to a lady of the best character. However, she, just like Miss Price, the last time my sister meddled in my affairs, will likely not accept me if she thinks I continue down the path of the libertine ─ and rightly so!”

  “This fit of pique is over that little Linton girl?” scoffed Lady St. James. “My dear Mr. Crawford, she will soon come to know that these things are just the way of the world. Marriage might begin with the promise of constancy, but then, well, boredom sets in and one must find his or her entertainments elsewhere. Oh, I know a gentleman must secure his estate, but he need not hide himself away at it.”

  Henry looked at her in disgust.

  Lady St. James lifted the paper from the counter. “And it seems the estimable Miss Linton is not as virtuous as you claim.”

  “That,” Henry said, snatching the paper from Lady St. James, “is also a falsehood. I know precisely why Miss Linton met with Mr. Edwards last night.” He tipped his head at his sister’s smirk. “As I suspect, so do you.” The flick of Lady St. James’ brow and a minuscule shrug gave him to know he was correct.

  “Henry, do you really wish to be so dull?” asked Mary, laying a hand on his arm.

  “Mr. Crawford,” he corrected, lifting her hand off his arm and letting it drop. “I suppose what I wish to be would be considered dull by your lot. You who seek husbands to buy you bobbles and gowns and who will expect no more in return than to warm his bed long enough to produce the requisite heir and a spare ─ oh, and to be discreet. Having his name bandied about in the paper is not pleasing, you see.”

  He shook his head. “What sort of husband does not care for his wife beyond that? What husband worth anything allows his wife to run off with the likes of me and does not chase her down and beg her to return? You may ask Mr. Rushworth that question. Perhaps his answer will be better than mine. For I would say, it is a cold husband who behaves so.”

  He chuckled, a low and bitter sound. “I will not be such a man. If I cannot marry a lady I love in such a way, I will not marry.”

  The bitterness he felt at the view of marriage Lady St. James had presented crept into the smile he turned on her. His uncle had held the same views, and though his uncle always seemed to be enjoying himself, he never seemed satisfied. There was always the need for another flirtation, for another conquest, for another mistress.

  “If you will excuse me, I must go call on Linton before he has signed over his sister to what is left of my reprobate friend.”

  He bowed, but then before he left, tapped on the counter. “That fragrance, the one my sister was last admiring,” he said to the store assistant, “will you hold one of those for me until tomorrow?”

  The man’s eyes grew wide in surprise, but he assured Henry that he would.

  “Very good,” Henry said with a nod. “I will return, and if I am successful, purchase that bottle for the future Mrs. Crawford.” A smile spread across his face and a faint feeling akin to hope crept into his heart at the appellation. Surely, Linton would allow him to marry Constance in Edwards’s place.

  “Wait a moment,” called a lady from the crowd that had gathered during Henry’s reading of the paper. “You mean to tell us that this story about you is not true?”

  Henry nodded. “Did we have a rendezvous in the garden last night, Lady St. James?”

  Her jaw clenched, and her chin lifted. “No,” she admitted.

  “And Miss Linton?” the lady asked.

  “She heard Lady St. James planning to create the scenario described in the paper, and not wishing to see me fall victim to such scheming, she enlisted the help of my friend, Mr. Edwards, to warn me. She is, as she always has been, without fault and far too good for me.”

  “But you love her?” There was a tone of wistfulness to the lady’s question.

  “With all that I am,” Henry answered. “I only hope I can prove myself worthy of her and gain her brother’s approval of my suit.”

  The lady sighed. “I wish you well.”

  “As do I,” said a familiar voice. “Might I join you on your call, Mr. Crawford? I think my account of what I have witnessed here will go a long way in swaying Trefor Linton’s opinion. His aunt and I are dear friends, after all.”

  Henry bowed and extended his arm. “I would be delighted to have your company.”

  Mrs. Barrett placed her hand on his arm, and together, they left the store.

  Chapter 12

  Being on horse and not in a carriage, Henry arrived at the Linton townhouse before Mrs. Barrett. He paced the walk in front of the door for a few minutes, attempting to wait patiently for the lady to join him. He would be less likely to be refused admittance if he were accompanied by Mrs. Kendrick’s particular friend. He was certain he could just see the Barrett carriage when the door to the house opened behind him.

  “It is about time you arrived,” Mrs. Kendrick said, pulling her wrap tightly around her shoulders and descending to the street to greet him. “You have come to marry Constance, have you not?” Her eyes held no amusement. They were as serious as he had ever seen them.

  “I had thought to, yes,” Henry replied slowly.

  Aunt Gwladys blew out a breath in relief. “Thank the Good Lord in heaven above. Now, before my niece expires in a fit of vapours.” She turned and hurried toward the house.

  Henry took one last look down the street. He was positive that carriage belonged to Mrs. Barrett. He should wait and see her safely inside.

  “Are you coming?” Mrs. Kendrick called.

  “Mrs. Barrett was to join me,” said Henry, pointing to the carriage that was nearly at its destination.

  Mrs. Kendrick looked from the carriage back to Henry. “Very well, I suppose it is only proper for you to wait for her, but please do not be long. Trefor is anxious to receive your confirmation of Mr. Edwards’s account about his purpose in finding you in the garden.”

  Henry assured her that he would indeed hurry, and he did. Mrs. Barrett seemed to understand the urgency of how things likely stood and was herself unwilling to be sedate in manners.

  “Allow me to enter ahead of you,” she whispered to Henry as they approached the door to the sitting room. “Mr. Linton will be forced to act appropriately to greet a lady, and that should save you any undue censure.”

  Henry did as instructed and followed closely behind Mrs. Barrett when she entered the room. Linton, as expected, straightened his coat, bowed, and said all the proper things ─ in a rather strained tone, but he said them.

  “Crawford.” Linton’s tone was surprisingly flat and not the growl Henry had expected.

  “Linton,” Henry acknowledged, though his eyes did not move from the sight that had arrested him when he entered the room.

  Edwards sat in a chair, his head tipped back, a cloth held to his nose while Constance held a compress to his eye. It was not as if he did not expect to see Edwards with a few injuries. Linton had promised more than that if either of them should ever compromise his sister. Apparently, even a compromise by chance was not to go unanswered. />
  However, more concerning to Henry was the redness of Constance’s eyes and nose. She had obviously been crying, and not just a few tears. Her face was drawn, and her expression tight as if struggling to compose herself enough to stay upright. The hand not holding the compress to Edwards’s head was gripping the chair so tightly that her knuckles were white. And if he was not mistaken, he had seen a small tremor pass through her body when she saw him enter.

  “Allow me,” Henry said, crossing the room. “You should sit down. I can hold that cloth.” He placed his hand over hers on Edwards’s head and slipped an arm around her waist since he could see her trembling beside him.

  “A chair for you sister, Linton,” he snapped. “What have you done to her?”

  “Me?” It was not a growl, but more of a roar and much more like what Henry had expected from Linton.

  “Yes, you,” Henry lifted the compress off his friend’s head. There was no blood. He lay the cloth back down.

  “If you hold still, this will stay here,” he said to Edwards.

  “Come,” he said softly to Constance, “you must sit.” Henry led her over to a settee and sat down beside her.

  “It was not me whose name was in the paper,” Linton sputtered. “I was not the one sneaking into alcoves or meeting with married women in gardens.”

  “Neither was Mr. Crawford,” Mrs. Barrett interjected. “Mr. Edwards was likely sneaking into alcoves, but not for any nefarious reasons where your sister or my daughter are concerned.” She had taken Henry’s place at Edwards’s side and lifted the compress from off his eye. “However, I shall thank you not to be in any dark corner with my daughter in the future.”

  Edwards nodded and mumbled his agreement.

  “Good,” she replaced the covering over his eye. “Evelyn had wanted to call on you as soon as she saw the paper, Miss Linton, but I told her it would be best to let things settle a mite and call tomorrow. She agreed but was so distraught over the whole ordeal that I could not persuade her to accompany me on my shopping trip.”

  Constance attempted to smile at her friend’s mother. She knew how dearly Evelyn loved to shop.

  “I nearly stayed home myself,” Mrs. Barrett took a seat next to Mrs. Kendrick. “But I am very glad I did not, for it was a very enlightening experience, ” she said with a smile.

  Linton cleared his throat. “Might we discuss shopping later?” he asked.

  “Oh, certainly,” she agreed, “but I do think my tale would help wrap matters up here,” she motioned to Mr. Edwards and then to Constance and Henry, “with all due haste.”

  “Do be seated, Trefor,” commanded his aunt.

  Linton did as instructed. “Very well, Mrs. Barrett, if you think your story will help me, I will listen.”

  “I was intent on purchasing a fan for Evelyn’s birthday and was making my selection when Mr. Crawford entered looking for all the world as if the devil were at his heels.” She chuckled. “The devil was not at his heels but rather admiring a necklace.”

  She leaned toward Mrs. Kendrick and whispered loudly. “Lady St. James.” She turned to address the room again. “And she was not alone. Miss Crawford was with her.”

  Linton’s eyes turned from Mrs. Barrett to Henry.

  “There was a scheme in which my sister played a part,” he began.

  “To see you compromised and considered unfit as a candidate for many young ladies?” Linton asked.

  Henry nodded. “But it came to naught because Edwards warned me of it.”

  “And Edwards knew of it because of Connie.”

  “Yes,” Henry confirmed, “that is what he told me when he found me in the garden. I am uncertain how my sister found out that it was your sister and Edwards who warned me, but judging from her reactions this morning, she knew.” He took Constance’s hand. “I cannot express how grieved I am that she has caused you harm.”

  “It was not your doing,” Constance whispered.

  “So, Edwards was telling me the truth,” Linton stated.

  “Yes, Edwards was telling the truth,” Edwards said from behind the cloth he still held to his nose.

  “The fact still remains that all of London knows you were in an alcove with my sister,” Linton growled. “And you know what they will think that was about.”

  “Oh, not any longer,” said Mrs. Barrett.

  “I beg your pardon?” Linton said, turning towards the lady.

  “Mr. Crawford did a valiant job of defending not only his honour but that of your sister as well.”

  Henry could tell from the glint in the woman’s eye that she was enjoying revealing small portions of the events of the morning while keeping others concealed.

  Linton crossed his arms. “Please continue.”

  “It was staged almost as well as any play could be with Mr. Crawford leaning against the perfumery counter in front of his sister and reading that dreadful article in the paper loudly enough for everyone to hear, and then declaring his wish to be rid of his sister for her behaviour.” Her hand flew dramatically to her heart. “And then to declare that any man who allows his wife to run off with another without chasing after her was,” she looked at Henry, “what was the word you used?”

  The right side of Henry’s mouth tipped up – as if she could not remember! “Cold,” he answered. “Not a husband at all, really. Certainly, not the sort I intend to be.”

  “And then he said if he could not marry for love, he would not marry at all!”

  She leaned toward Mrs. Kendrick. “If he did not already have a particular lady in mind and had he not announced it to the gathered throng, I am certain there would have been more than one mother pushing her daughter in his path as he exited. However, as it stood, having declared his intentions to attempt to secure this particular young lady, who he assured them was without reproach, they merely let him pass. And the tale of how Lady St. James attempted to compromise Mr. Crawford and the gallant part Miss Linton and Mr. Edwards played in thwarting the scheme will be well circulated by tomorrow. Indeed, I dare say it shall be in the paper. I certainly have not witnessed such a display ─ it truly was newsworthy.”

  “Am I to assume, Crawford,” Linton began, “that all of London knows the name of this particular lady whom you wish to take for a wife?”

  Henry swallowed. This was not perhaps how he had intended to broach the subject with Linton, but it was probably no less comfortable than if he had found himself in Linton’s office attempting to plead his case. At least here, it seemed he had Mrs. Barrett to come to his aid should he need it. He nodded. “Yes.”

  “I told you he would marry her,” said Edwards, who now held a compress only to his eye as his nose had stopped bleeding, “but you were so bent on dragging me from my house, that you would not listen.”

  Henry scowled at Edwards. “You promised not to say anything about that.”

  Edwards let out a short burst of laughter. “When Linton has you by the neck, you say what you have to say to retain your life.”

  “So, you wish to marry my sister?” Linton’s arms were still folded, and his expression had not softened in the least.

  “Yes, if you will allow it, and she will have me.” Henry kept his eyes fixed on Linton even though he wished to see what Constance’s reaction was to his declaration. He rubbed his hands nervously on his knees until a small hand captured one of them, and he felt as if he could once again breathe. “I love her.”

  Linton’s eyes narrowed. “I believe I warned both of you that such a thing could happen when you began this agreement to help you improve.”

  “You did,” Henry agreed. “You also told me you would kill me if I broke her heart.”

  “I did, and that promise still holds true. Do not break her heart. Treat her well, Crawford.” A smile spread across his face. “Not that she will ever allow you to treat her otherwise.”

  Constance gasped. “I have not yet said I will accept him.” She would, of course, but it was rather bothersome that her brother would
just give her away without consulting her.

  Linton chuckled and stood. “I am not so thick headed as you might think, my dear sister. If you will remember, I asked you two weeks ago if you would accept him, and you said you would. I could tell how little you wished to give him that list.” He winked at her and then turned to the rest of the room. “Now, if you would care to join me in the breakfast room for a celebratory cup of tea, we can let Crawford get on with making his offer, so it can be accepted.”

  “I have your permission?” Henry asked.

  Linton nodded. “You have proven yourself worthy, first by learning all the things Connie taught you, then by doing as I asked and staying away from her for two weeks, and finally, by choosing her above your own sister. Those are not the actions of a man who will waver or neglect his responsibilities.” He clapped Henry on the shoulder and then bent to kiss his sister’s forehead before leaving the room and closing the door firmly behind him.

  Henry sat for a moment, staring at the door. Linton approved of him. Linton — all that was proper, never-waver-from-the-straight-and-narrow Linton — was trusting him, Henry Crawford, with the precious heart of his sister. The idea was not displeasing. It was actually quite the opposite, but it was a little unsettling.

  “A proper gentleman,” Constance began, “does not sit mutely by when he intends to make an offer of marriage to a lady.”

  Henry smiled at the familiar tone of instruction she used. “Are you well?” he asked, laying a hand on her cheek, which had grown rosy.

  She nodded. “I am now.”

  “I am so very sorry that you have had to endure all this.” He removed his hand from her cheek and took her hands in his. “I called on Miss Bellamy this morning after Lord St. James made me aware of the article in the paper ─ or, more accurately, I called on Miss Bellamy’s mother and told her that I did not think her daughter and I would suit. My list is complete.”